by Nancy Warren
A different person might have taken their personal torment into a bar and ordered straight whisky and then bored the bartender with their problems. For Meg, her place of refuge was a bookstore.
She walked, and she kept walking. She came to a secondhand bookstore, one of her favorites. It stocked everything from old classics to out-of-print cookbooks and last month’s category romances. She headed in. She even loved the smell of the old paper. A fluffy orange cat sat on a pillow on the top shelf of the philosophy section and stared sleepily down at her. She wandered the squished aisles, peering at mythology, sleep disorders and Russian fiction, and all the ideas and stories packed into the space soothed her.
An entire sci-fi and fantasy section suggested other worlds existed, the crime and mystery shelves promised that evil would be punished and order restored, and in the romance section, ordinary girls were swept off their feet by billionaires.
If all these stories were possible, then how hard could it be for one determined woman to buy a second hand wedding dress?
But, if she bought the dress, it would effectively end her relationship with Dylan. He’d believe she was going to wear it down the aisle to marry her invented fiancé, and, instead, the dress would hang in her closet reminding her of the man she’d fallen for.
On the other hand, if she didn’t buy the dress, and soon, some other bride would and then she felt the spell would be broken. While she was wandering, she found three copies of Catch-22. She chose the one with the clearest print, paid for the book and tucked it in her bag, and headed home.
Maybe she hadn’t ever read the book, but she knew what a catch-22 was. And she was in a good one.
Chapter 6
“I have to hand it to you, Dylan,” Joe said once the afternoon rush had cleared out. “The advertising we did is really paying off. We’ve already sold four of those bridesmaid dresses and sales in general are way up. I'm really surprised that we haven't sold the Evangeline wedding dress.”
Dylan had no idea what he was doing. He had talked three women out of that dress, three women who were willing to pay five grand. But something in him couldn't let that dress go. When he had seen Meg wearing the gown, and then, even worse, Joe had made him act like he was her bridegroom and he'd slipped a wedding ring onto her finger, well, he wasn't the most romantic guy in the world but something profound and irreversible had happened to him.
He was a practical man, a guy with a business degree who worried about Internet security. He wasn't a fall-in-love-at-first-sight-with-a-stranger kind of person. And yet, that's exactly what had happened to him. He'd fallen hard and fast for a pair of brown eyes and a shy smile. Worse, he’d fallen for a woman he couldn't have.
Trust him. If he had to suddenly discover love at first sight, couldn't he have at least found a woman who was available?
He said, “I know. It hasn't been quite right for anyone but Meg.” Since his mother was now working with him in the store he figured he’d better make it clear to her that the dress was not for sale. He said, “I know we don't normally do this, but I put the gown on hold for her.”
She raised her eyebrows. “No. We don't usually do that. I think it was you who told me that it was bad business.”
“I did. But, think about it. As soon as the Evangeline gown is gone, our business drops back to what it was. It's not like we have a string of Evangeline designer gowns and we can pull another one from the back stockroom. I think it's smart business to keep the dress in stock at least for a couple of weeks.”
“A couple of weeks? Is that how long she wants the dress on hold for?”
“I think she's waiting for a paycheck.” What was he doing? He hadn’t lied to his mother since he was a rebellious teen.
And there was the reason he never lied to his mother. Because she could see right through him. She looked at him now and her face wrinkled with concern. “What are you doing?”
He shook his head. “I don't know. If I figure it out, you'll be the first to know.”
“That girl is engaged. That means she is going to marry another man.”
“I know.”
“Anyway, aren’t you still seeing Amy?”
“No.” Amy had been his girlfriend at Stanford. When he’d moved to LA after graduating, she’d moved to San Jose to work for one of the big Internet firms. They’d kept up for a while, but since he hadn’t bothered to see her in the last couple of months, and she hadn’t tried to see him, he figured they were done. His mother had never liked her anyway. “You should be happy I'm not with Amy anymore.”
“I am happy you're not with Amy anymore. I just don't want you to get your heart broken by some girl who is not available.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“It’s what mothers do.”
He couldn’t argue with that. “I’m heading out to get some lunch. Can I pick you up anything?”
“No. I’ll get something later.”
He went to one of his favorite lunch spots. They made great sandwiches, excellent coffee, and offered free Wi-Fi. He pulled out his laptop. He decided to check on the online advertising they had done and to see if a press release he’d sent out had been picked up by any bloggers. He was munching and scrolling when he came across a blog post. The title was, “No, your Big Balls aren't enough.”
He had no idea why he clicked through to the blog post but he found himself reading about the trials of a single woman dating in LA who called herself Single Chick in LA. The big balls referred to the professional athlete she had met online who turned out to be a professional bowler. From Winnipeg. He found the article to be funny and edgy. He liked single chick’s style so he scrolled through to her home page, which featured an even newer post. He nearly choked on his sandwich.
“She finally meets a great guy, then lies and tells him she’s engaged.”
This woman, LA Single Chick, told the horrifying story about how her roommate, a woman who tended to spend most nights at home with a good book, had met an amazing guy and been so flustered she told him she was engaged.
He recalled Meg’s words while they were having dinner. “My roommate blogs about being a single girl in LA.” No doubt there were hundreds of blogs about dating in LA, possibly thousands for all he knew. He read the entire article. Then he read the comments. There were fifty-nine of them. People encouraging this girl to do everything from get out more, to tell the guy the truth. One comment warned that he probably liked her because she was unavailable. “It sucks sweaty donkey, but the truth is, your LA guy will be crazy about you when he can’t have you, then forget you exist when you make yourself available.”
He slapped down his urge to rebut that comment. He knew there were a lot of bitter women out there, but a man did not stay single so he could mess with nice women’s heads. Sometimes, men got screwed over by love too.
He knew he was reading a lot into a random blog post, but something had been off about Meg and her wedding from the first time she’d walked into Joe’s and asked about the dress. She wore no engagement ring. When he’d asked if they’d set a date, she’d looked flustered and said they hadn’t. He asked if she was seeing her guy on Saturday night and she’d said he was out of town. He remembered asking if her fiancé lived in LA and, now he came to think of it, she hadn't replied.
He sipped coffee and gave the matter some thought. There was no way an intelligent woman like Meg would not notice that he was completely smitten with her. So why hadn’t she told him the truth? He could understand that a woman who was in a store trying on a wedding dress would say she was engaged. Of course she would. Because who would do such a thing? Who would try on a wedding gown if she wasn’t engaged?
Then he thought about his own behavior and had to question why a man would organize an advertising campaign just to get to see a woman again, a woman who was not free.
He was used to things that made sense. Business was pretty clear. It acquired inventory, or created a service, offered it for sale. People bought it or the
y didn't. A business operated on profits and losses, inventory, salaries, and a score of other factors that were quantifiable.
But dating? Relationships between men and women? They were complicated, and one sex didn't make sense to the other half the time. His own actions made no sense, and he considered himself a sensible, down-to-earth man. He went back and read the blog post one more time. Then he skimmed back and read random posts from the past few months. The roommate didn't get mentioned a whole lot, but he got a picture of a quiet, shy person who preferred books to parties. There was a hilarious post where single chick had tried to convince the shy friend to go on an Internet double date.
Maybe he was crazy and plenty of women lied about being engaged and had roommates who blogged about it. But he began to feel more hopeful than he’d felt in days.
What if Meg wasn’t engaged after all?
He put away his laptop and pulled out the well-thumbed copy of Pride and Prejudice that he’d found on his mother's bookshelf.
He opened the book and read the first page. Women scheming to marry rich men. Oh, good. Exactly his kind of story. He could sit and read Single Chick in LA and get the same story—some things never changed. He yawned, checked the time, and decided he’d give Jane Austen exactly fifteen minutes.
To his surprise, he caught himself chuckling by page three. Maybe there was more to this novel than the bagging of rich dudes by poor women.
When he returned to Joe’s after lunch, he found his mother packing yet another of the bridesmaid dresses. Two other customers waited in line to pay.
He immediately went to help. He bagged purchases and joked with the customers, until the rush was over and there were only two women flicking through garments in a way that suggested they were merely browsing.
“You're in a better mood since you got back from lunch.”
“Low blood sugar,” he said.
“Since when do you suffer from low blood sugar?”
“Just be glad I'm happy.”
“I am. Oh, and Janet’s back. That should make you even happier.”
“When did she get in? And what did she bring with her? Or, should I say, has she brought anything for the store?”
Janet was his aunt and the co-owner of Joe's. She was by nature a wanderer. She’d financed her travels by writing about her experiences, many of them humorous accounts of her adventures as a single woman of a certain age. To her surprise as much as anyone’s, she had become famous and quite rich. Janet also loved pretty things. When she and Joe had decided to open the store, she’d decreed that she would be their international buyer. Although she did bring some choice items to the vintage store, most of her shopping ended up in her own closet.
Joe headed out later to attend an antique auction with several lots of vintage clothing. Things were quiet enough while she was gone that he was able to spend an hour going over the marketing plan for their Internet startup. He wasn’t one of the software engineers on the project. His flair was for the practicalities of business. Any fool could see the screaming need for better Internet privacy and security. And his firm was by no means the only one working on the problem. When they launched, marketing would be critical.
The jingle of the bell made him look up. A young Asian-American woman walked in. She wore a short black dress with black high heels and had the solid build of an athlete.
She didn’t browse through the store at all, but walked straight up to him. “Hi. I’d like to try on the wedding dress in the window.”
He was getting tired of dragging that dress in and out of the display. He looked her up and down. “It's not going to fit you.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “How do you know?”
He didn't want to sound rude by making comments about her figure, so he said, “It's made for a much taller woman.”
She gave him a scornful glance. “I can have it turned up.”
He could sense that she was not going to be fobbed off. So, once more, he climbed up into the window and carefully removed the dress from the mannequin. “Anyway,” she said, “it's not for me. It's for a friend.”
“Why doesn't she come in and try it on herself?”
She stepped closer, close enough that her shoulder rubbed his arm. “Morning sickness. She doesn’t want to throw up on the dress. She saw it on your website and really wanted it.”
He didn't entirely believe the story, and worse, he was pretty sure this woman was hitting on him. It happened sometimes; he was the only guy in a store with a lot of female traffic.
He set her up in the fitting room and left her to it. In a few minutes she waltzed out, holding the bodice up to her chest. She blinked her lashes at him. “Could you do me up at the back?”
He glanced around, but of course Joe wasn’t back yet. “Sure.”
As he’d already told her, the dress was entirely the wrong size. He did up two buttons at her waist but to do any more would strain the material. He said, “Take a look in the mirror.”
She didn't seem to mind that most of her back was exposed. If anything, he thought she was teasing him with as much skin as she could get away with. She was pretty and kind of funny and if he wasn't already hugely into another woman, he’d have flirted back. But he had no interest in other women right now. After she studied the dress from every angle she said, “I think I'll buy it for her. Do you take credit cards?”
“You’re a very generous friend.” He lifted the trailing skirt so she wouldn’t trip over it. “Do you know how much this dress costs?”
“No. I guess I should've asked that.”
“It's five grand.”
She didn't seem very surprised. “Well, I'll take it anyway.”
“I'm sorry. It's really not for sale.”
She eyed him with deep suspicion. “You just told me it's five grand.”
“I know. And we will sell it eventually. We’re hanging onto it for inventory purposes.”
“Inventory? Isn't the whole idea of having a store to get rid of inventory?”
“You’re right. Normally. But, this is such a special gown, that we want to hang onto it for a while.”
“When do you think it might be available?”
“Probably not before your friend starts showing.”
She sidled up to him one more time. She tossed her long, black hair over her shoulder and gazed up at him. “Why don't I take you out for a drink and you can explain to me exactly what I would have to do to get you to sell me this dress.”
He grinned at her. He couldn't help it. She was a woman who knew what she wanted and went for it. Also, he liked how upfront she was. He said, “I'd like to, but I can't.”
“Why not? Are you seeing someone?”
If she could be honest and direct, he supposed he could too. He said, “I'm working on it.”
“Well, it's a beautiful dress. Some lucky bride’s going to look like a princess in it.”
“We have an entire bridal section over there. Maybe there’s something there that would suit your friend?”
“I don’t think so. She’s a woman who knows exactly what she wants.” Then she went back into the changing room and put herself back into her street clothes. When she left, he returned the gown once more to the front window, resisting the urge to plant a SOLD sign on it.
Chapter 7
“You did what?” Meg stared at June, so horrified her scalp tingled with humiliation.
“I was testing your theory,” June explained. “Is the Evangeline dress for sale or isn't it? And if it was on hold, I was going to try and find out who it was on hold for.”
“So you went into the vintage store without telling me you were going, and got Dylan to let you try on my wedding dress?”
“It's not your wedding dress because you haven't bought it yet. Anyway, you're going to like what I have to say.”
Somehow Meg doubted it. But she had to know. “Okay, tell me everything. Every single detail and every word you both spoke.”
“Deal. First,
you have excellent taste. Your guy’s friggin' gorgeous.”
She knew that, but it was still nice to have her taste confirmed.
“So I said I wanted to try on the dress and he looked at me and said it wouldn't fit.”
Meg couldn’t help but chuckle at the indignation in her friend’s tone. “He was probably right. You’re a lot more muscular than I am.” Also, several inches shorter, but she didn't point that out.
“Then I said it wasn't for me, it was for my friend. And then he wanted to know why my friend wasn't there, so I said she was pregnant.”
“You said you were buying a wedding dress for a pregnant lady?”
“I was explaining to him why I, a single woman, might want to try on a wedding gown.”
Meg didn't like the spurt of jealousy she experienced when she thought of June making it very clear to Dylan that she was a single woman. “So, did he let you try it on?”
“Of course he did. I'm very persuasive. And, he was right, it didn't fit it all. So I hit on him.”
“You did not!” She felt the same way about Dylan that she did about the gown. She didn’t want other women touching him.
“Chica, it was the best way to find out if he was available.”
“You hit on him how exactly?”
“First, I let him know with some subtle body language that I was interested. And then I asked him out for a drink.”
“Wow. Subtlety is your middle name.”
“Don't worry. He turned me down.”
A little butterfly of hope danced around in her belly. “He turned you down?”
“Yep, and I asked him why. I asked if he was seeing someone.”
Even though she hated that June had gone behind her back and blundered into Dylan's store and got herself involved in Meg’s possible love life, she was still dying to hear everything that had happened. “And what did he say?”